[Desert Roses 03] - Beneath A Harvest Sky (19 page)
“But what? You never finished your thought,” Duncan said softly.
Rainy caught the intensity of his gaze. It left her feeling almost breathless. My, but he was handsome.
She noted how the sun had darkened his skin to a honey gold.
“Oh, goodness, look at the time,” Rainy said. “We need to get back to Santa Fe.” She hurried off to gather the others, leaving Duncan looking rather stunned by her exit. She couldn’t explain herself to him, so she decided it was just better to walk away.
No
sense in letting him get in the middle of this when God so
clearly has allowed this entire situation to test my trust in
Him
. She would simply devote more time in prayer for the entire matter. Once they were back in Santa Fe, she’d put in for her time off and return home for a good long think. God clearly wanted her attention, and Rainy didn’t want to ignore her heavenly Father— even for a moment.
————
The next day Rainy packed her bags. She felt confident that the best thing for her to do right now was return home to Albuquerque and take some time for quiet reflection and prayer. No Phillip Vance. No Duncan Hartford. Just the peaceful sanctuary of her parents’ home and their sweet company.
Her mother would help her to better understand her mixed-up feelings, and Sonny and their father would keep her from becoming too maudlin. Her father might also have some ideas about what she could do to get the Driscolls to clear her name regarding the university thefts. He seemed to be the only one who really understood that it was more than a matter of letting the issue fade away. She wanted to be vindicated. There were still people out there who believed her a thief, and Rainy could not bear this.
Making her way downstairs, she paused to speak with Mrs. Rivera. “I’m leaving now. I will be gone for two weeks, so don’t be giving my room away,” she teased the older woman.
“I wouldn’t dream of it. You and Sonny are my best boarders.”
Rainy grinned and handed her the month’s rent.
“Here, this will ensure it, just in case you forget us.
Sonny should be back next week, unless he’s made other plans that he hasn’t shared with me.”
“How will you get to the train station?” Mrs. Rivera asked.
“The touring company promised to send someone for me.” Rainy shifted her bags and looked at her watch. “I’d better hurry. The driver is probably here already.”
Rainy hurried outside, noting as she went through the door that the black touring car was waiting for her at the end of the walkway. She looked around for the driver and was taken off guard when Duncan appeared at her side. He took hold of her arm and escorted her without a word to the car.
“I was asked to drive you to the train. You’re leaving in a mighty big hurry. What’s the rush?” he asked as he took her bags in hand. He seemed to consider the larger of the two for a moment, then tossed both cases onto the backseat and helped Rainy into the front.
“I wanted to spend time at home. You know I was scheduled to take a two-week vacation. Sonny’s time is nearly up, but I felt it was important to go anyway.
Sonny can either work with another courier or he can do odd jobs for Major Clarkson until I get back.”
Duncan started the car and eased it into the traffic.
Rainy noticed he’d dressed rather smartly, leaving his tour-driver uniform at home. He looked quite handsome in his trousers and jacket of charcoal gray.
A crisp white shirt accented with a red-and-gray striped tie made Duncan look more like a railroad owner than an employee. His fedora was the perfect touch.
“You’re certainly dressed up,” Rainy said before she realized the words were out of her mouth.
Duncan seemed uncomfortable with her analysis.
“I was called to a meeting. It seemed appropriate attire.”
“Oh.” Rainy looked at him and saw that his jaw had tensed. There was the slightest tick in his cheek, suggesting he wasn’t at all happy. “You seem upset.”
“I am upset.”
“Oh.” Should she ask why? Should she try to pry into his affairs as he had done with her? Before she could question him, however, Duncan pulled the car to the side of the road and turned to her.
“Two very expensive paintings disappeared from Taos. Did you by any chance hear anything about it?”
Rainy shook her head. “No. Should I have?”
He fixed her with such an intense look that Rainy lowered her gaze to her blue cotton skirt. She trembled when he reached out and took hold of her chin.
He raised her face to meet his gaze and leaned forward. For just a moment Rainy thought he might kiss her.
“If you do know something about this, you must come forward.”
A sense of confusion washed over Rainy. “Why would I know anything about it?”
“Because they disappeared the day we left—or rather the night before.”
Rainy shook her head. “I hadn’t heard so much as a single bit of gossip suggesting it. Was that what your meeting was about?”
Duncan stiffened and dropped his hold. He gripped the steering wheel tightly. “Why are you leaving Santa Fe?”
“I told you,” Rainy replied. “My work for Phillip and his sister is done, and I need a vacation. Phillip is heading back to Los Angeles this afternoon, so there is no reason to stay here.”
Duncan looked at her with an expression that suggested disbelief. “No reason?”
Rainy shook her head. “No working reason. Duncan, what is this all about? I don’t understand your anger. I don’t know what I’ve done to make you feel so hostile toward me, but—”
“Rainy, I don’t feel hostile toward you.” Duncan took hold of her hand. “I’m worried about you.”
The sinking feeling that there was something more to this than met the eye caused Rainy to pull away.
“Why are you worried about me, Duncan?”
He sighed and leaned back against the car door.
“There are so many reasons to worry about you. I feel like, even though we’ve gotten to know each other better through the Detours, I don’t know you at all. I’d really like to, but you seem far more interested in other things.”
“Other things or other people?” Rainy shot back in defense. “Is this about Phillip?”
Duncan clenched his jaw again. Rainy could see the muscles in his neck tense. He started the car back down the street. For several blocks he said nothing, then finally he glanced over. “I don’t want to see you hurt.”
“I don’t want to see me hurt either. That’s why I wish you’d just tell me what this is all about.”
“I can’t,” Duncan admitted.
“Can’t or won’t?”
“I can’t. There are things going on that I can’t talk about.”
Rainy watched him for a moment longer, then turned her attention to the passing scenery. She could barely contain her frustration at Duncan’s riddles.
Why couldn’t he just speak the truth and let her be responsible for whatever needed to be addressed? She hated it when people thought they were protecting her and instead only ended up hurting her more.
Chester had been that way. He had told her it was for her own good that he hadn’t shared with her all that he knew about the missing artifacts.
The missing artifacts
.
The words stuck in Rainy’s head. Duncan talked about the theft of the Hopi flutes and now the paintings from Taos. Her stomach churned and dread settled over her like a wet blanket.
How could I have been
so dense? Dear Lord, do they really think I’m responsible?
The sudden revelation perfectly explained Duncan’s attitude. “You think I stole the paintings and the flutes, don’t you?”
Duncan continued to drive, his gaze fixed on the road ahead. “No.
I
don’t think that.”
He had emphasized the word “I,” leaving Rainy even more certain of the situation. “But someone else does. Is that right?”
Duncan pulled into the station and parked the car.
He sat for several moments before turning to Rainy. “I have to say I’m far more concerned about the situation with you and Phillip Vance.”
Rainy shook her head. “But why? That’s a matter that is clearly none of your concern.”
“Maybe not directly, but since Sonny asked me to look after you while—”
“Leave Sonny out of this,” Rainy said, opening her door. “If you have some reason to care about what happens to me, then stop hiding behind Sonny and tell me so. Otherwise, leave it alone.”
She slammed the door, startled at the boldness of her words. She grabbed her bags off the backseat and rushed to the depot.
Oh, Lord, I’m always making a mess
of things. Put a guard on my mouth and keep me from false
accusations. You know I’ve had nothing to do with any of the
missing pieces. You are the only one who can clear me of these
suspicions. I don’t know if someone other than Duncan considers
me to be involved, but I am worried. Worried enough
that I know I’ll never have a moment’s rest at home unless
you take the matter from me and I yield it in turn
.
At the depot door she turned. Duncan remained in the car, the look on his face suggesting a bit of shock.
Good,
she thought.
Let him stew over this as I have
.
T
he beady-eyed Indian Affairs official sat opposite Duncan’s desk at the museum. “I want to know everything you did and saw while in Taos,” the man said.
“I saw nothing that would help you with the recovery of the two pieces of art that disappeared from Taos,” Duncan replied. “I checked and rechecked the luggage as best I could—though I obviously was not able to look inside. Not that two large oil canvases would have fit in any of the bags I loaded.”
“Canvases can be rolled,” the Taos deputy sheriff offered. He sat to Mr. Richland’s left and seemed quite anxious about the entire matter. Duncan couldn’t even remember the man’s name, but his anxiety and nervous twitching made him seem an unlikely candidate for law enforcement.
“I’m sure you may not be aware of what else is going on in the world,” Richland began in his condescending manner, “but this country stands on the brink of a financial disaster. People are stockpiling money and goods—at least those people who seem to understand what’s happening. Someone has no doubt taken the Hopi artifacts and paintings in order to sell them to the highest bidder.”
Duncan asked what seemed a logical question.
“But if everyone is hoarding, who will be buying?”
“The wealthy will always find a way,” Richland answered. “There are plenty of well-to-do people who intend to stay that way. They know that diversifying their holdings will be the way to stability.”
Duncan shook his head. “It doesn’t make any sense. There are pieces here in Santa Fe that are worth far more than those on the reservations. Why steal a few historically important artifacts that probably have very little monetary value—except to museums?”
“People have collections,” Richland responded.
“Collections that include all manner of items. Don’t play naïve with me, Mr. Hartford. You may have no idea of the true financial status of this country, but surely you understand that there are those who would steal such artifacts to sell to museums or personal collectors.”
“Of course I understand that, Mr. Richland.” Duncan fought back his irritation with the man. “I’m merely suggesting that financial gain may not be the reason why those pieces are missing.”
“What’s your theory on the matter?” the deputy sheriff asked.
“I’ve given some thought to this while driving for the tours. You both realize, don’t you, that the Harvey Company recently sold the Indian Detours to Major Clarkson.”
“What of it?” Richland questioned.
“Suppose this isn’t about the money or the Indians or even the oil paintings. What if this is about the transfer of the company? What if we’re dealing with a disgruntled former employee or even someone in the Harvey Company who doesn’t want to see Clarkson succeed?”
“That makes very little sense, Mr. Hartford,” Rich-land said. The deputy nodded in agreement with him.
“I think it could make perfectly good sense. Think, gentlemen. If you were angry because you’d lost your job after the sale of the Detours business, what might you do to settle the score?”
The men stared blankly, so Duncan continued.
“You’d do whatever it took to make the business look bad. You’d arrange for things to happen that could be blamed on the company. I think it’s completely possible that someone has a grievance against Major Clarkson or the Harvey Company and they’ve set this up to create mistrust with the Indians and cities involved with the Detour business.”
“But the thefts have been going on longer than Clarkson has owned the business. More information has surfaced to prove that smaller articles have disappeared from the reservations during past tours,” Rich-land stated coolly.
“So that might help us narrow the field,” Duncan replied. “Maybe we need to focus on employees who were fired from the Harvey Company before the thefts began.”
“I think you’re grasping at straws,” the nervous deputy sheriff announced.
Duncan shrugged. “You asked me to check into
this situation. I’ve done a great deal of thinking and observing. I saw nothing to suggest that either the employees or the guests of the Detours have stolen a single article. Of course, my experience is limited to only a handful of trips, but that’s my observation.”